


The Beauty of a Snowflake

by Cornerofmadness



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29546799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: JT hates winter. Malcolm is determined to make him see the beauty of the season.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2021





	The Beauty of a Snowflake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [literati42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/literati42/gifts), [Cozy_coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozy_coffee/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** Not mine, Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver owns it
> 
> **Notes:** Written for Literati42. Happy birthday my friend. Also written for cozy_coffee for the prompt any, any, ‘fuck winter!’

_“To appreciate the beauty of a snowflake, it is necessary to stand out in the cold.” — Aristotle_

Breathing hard, JT closed the distance between him and the dude who had been carving up nuns. Suddenly he hit a patch of ice and went down hard, his head hitting the sidewalk with enough force to make his vision fuzz out. He heard more than saw Bright pour on the speed somehow in those fashionable but not necessarily winter friendly shoes.

JT shook his head, trying to clear it. He had to get up. Bright would catch the guy but probably get hurt. For someone trained by the FBI, he seemed to get hurt every case. JT suspected it was some sort of subconscious death wish. Norman – as if his parents knew and named him after a psycho – yelped. Yep, Bright caught him. He rolled to his feet in time to see Bright land two solid, well placed strikes only to have Norman whip out the box cutter he’d been using for his extracurricular killing. Bright danced backward and toppled over the dirty, heaped up snow found everywhere in New York this time of year. Part of the heap avalanched over Bright.

Before JT could reach him or Norman could carve him like it was Thanksgiving, Dani burst out of the alley and took Norman down, the box cutter flying into the street. As she cuffed up Norman, JT pulled Bright out of the snow. 

Bright primly dusted snow off his wool dress coat and jutted his chin at JT. “You’re bleeding.”

JT wiped at the back of his head and came away with blood on his gloves. “I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again, fuck winter!”

Bright chuckled and retrieved the box cutter. “I love winter. Well, maybe not so much here in the city where everything is so filthy. But go up to Westchester or out to the Hamptons and the snow is beautiful. It’s quiet and peaceful with the promise of renewal hidden just under it.”

“Did you hit your head too?” JT helped Dani to get Norman to his feet. He was far from done struggling.

“No, come on. Have you never walked in Central Park and just take in the soft beauty of the snow?” 

JT and Dani exchanged their patented ‘Bright isn’t right’ look. She shook her head and started marching Norman back to the awaiting car to transport him.

“Bro, I say this as a friend, you’re nuts.”

Bright only smiled that huge smile that reinforced JT’s diagnosis. “I am going to change your mind, JT. Tell me you have a passport.”

Even as he nodded, JT knew he was in for something wild.

X X X

JT buried his hands in his coat pockets, staring at the tour bus. A plume of frozen breath haloed him. “Now I know you’re insane, Bright. Only you would bring me to someplace colder than the city to prove winter isn’t shit.”

“You’ll see.”

JT grunted. Even though he knew the trip was to prove winter was somehow a miraculous thing of beauty – and that Bright wasn’t stuck being a child, which was the last time JT remembered liking snow - he had half hoped Bright was going to pull a gotcha and whisk him off to Tahiti to soak in the sun. Now that he thought about it, how the hell had skinny and pale come back from Tahiti that time still skinny and pale? Bright wouldn’t tell him what he had planned. Someone had taken away their luggage when they got off the private jet. Private! Jet! He’d never pictured himself on one of those. 

All JT knew was he was at Bright’s mercy and he was about to go on a bus full of tourists in Quebec City. JT had been many things but he’d rarely been a tourist, wasn’t even sure how he felt about being one, surrounded by others on a bus. He’d been vaguely aware that French was the predominate language here but at least he was used to not knowing the language from his time in the army.

“Relax, JT, and just enjoy,” Bright said, letting JT have the window seat. 

What JT was more aware of was the warmth of Bright’s thigh against his and that the seat was more comfortable than he expected. It didn’t take long, however, for him to relax into his role as the bus rolled on. The Latin Quarter was interesting, and while the snow did look pretty lying on the Plains of Abraham, JT could live his life without visiting another battlefield. He was pretty sure he could see French and Indian war monuments in New York and all he knew was it more like the French and British war with the Indigenous people getting screwed on both sides.

The Cathedral-Basilica of Notre-Dame de Québec had him crossing himself as they entered and explored. Gil would love this place, JT decided and Bright, on the other hand, seemed mainly impressed by the architecture versus where he was. He was not a spiritual man in any sense of the word and JT wondered was that another thing The Surgeon had stolen from his son or if they would have been non-religious as a family. That was a change from how JT grew up.

They both enjoyed the Place-Royale, one of the first French settlements in the Americas. 1608, that was old. JT had trouble thinking of things so far back, so long ago, knowing he wouldn’t be as welcome then as he was now. NYC might have one or two buildings left from that time period but to have a whole site of them? No, this was special and while he was still cold and grumpy about it, JT did manage to smile for pictures. Funny, he was the one into the selfies much more than Bright. If nothing else, they were going home with tons of photographic evidence. 

However, what really captured JT’s imagination is when they stopped at the Château Frontenac. The historic hotel, perched on a promontory, looked a French fairytale castle. He leaned over and whispered in Bright’s ear, “Tell me that’s where we’re staying.”

Bright grinned. “That was my second choice but no.”

“Damn, it looks pretty posh.”

“Well, if I knew you wanted posh…” There was that little smirk that said ‘yes I know I’m a little shit. What are you gonna do about it?’ JT wanted to kiss the smirk away.

“Keep it in mind for next time.” Just a few months ago, he couldn’t have imagined wanting to spend this much time with Bright and all his crazy. Oh how things had changed.

“I shall.”

They went from the tour to some place Bright assured JT he would love. When JT saw the large snowbound cottage he was sure Bright had lost his damned mind, especially after spotting clusters of people outside shifting and stamping in the cold, trying to stay warm.

“Bright, this is not saying winter doesn’t suck to me.”

“Oh it will.” He chivvied JT along until they were standing next to a trough of snow. “You’re going to love this.”

JT rolled his eyes. “I can see piles of stupid snow at home.”

“Give it a sec.”

A happy young woman with blonde pigtails grinned at them and said something in French that Bright responded to. He’d said he’d learned French during some study abroad opportunity but he wasn’t that fluent. Sounded fluent enough to JT. The woman switched to English. “A little maple taffy coming up.”

She poured thick maple syrup onto the snow. She poked sticks into it and let it freeze up. She handed them the impromptu maple sugar taffy lollipops. JT rolled his eyes. But of course Bright would bring him somewhere to get a sucker.

“Taste it,” Bright prompted.

JT gave the maple taffy an experimental lick, sweet with snowflakes still clinging to it. “This is weird, Bright.”

He quirked up an eyebrow. “Really?” The pink tip of his tongue flicked the end of the taffy-pop before he lathed it along the sweet, brown length of the frozen treat.

Watching Bright fellate the sugary pop made JT’s mouth dry and threatened to quickly make his pants not quite roomy enough. He grabbed Bright’s elbow dragging him away from the snow trough. “Don’t do that in public!”

Bright’s brilliant crystalline eyes danced as he slowly pushed the taffy deep into his mouth and out again. “Why?”

He bent down and whispered in Bright’s ear, “Because I might be tempted to do something to you up against a tree over in those woods and we’ll both end up in a Canadian prison and I am not calling Gil or Dani to bail us out.”

“Ainsley would simply laugh at us. Come on, let’s go inside.”

JT sucked on his own taffy pop, eyeballing the cottage. Raucous music with a lot of fiddle and accordion played loudly. “It has questionable music.”

“That’s rigodon music, French Acadian I think. You’re going inside because this is half the reason I brought you here.”

“So it wasn’t to make me watch you do obscene things to maple sugar?” JT widened his eyes at Bright.

Bright cast a longing glance back at the snow trough. “I could go for more.”

JT snorted and pushed Bright toward the door, happy to get out of the snow and cold. Delectable smells of food lured JT deeper inside the cottage, which he realized was a restaurant.

“It’s a sugar shack. I thought you’d really enjoy this,” Bright finished off his maple sugar.

JT could hardly say no to the all-you-can-eat feast waiting for him. They sat down to yellow pea soup, thick and warming and even Bright ate it. He picked at the baked beans and took the tiniest piece of ham he could. JT loaded up on the ham and the sausages cooked in maple syrup. Bright took a little of the creton, a spiced pork spread they slavered on brown bread rolls. This is why Bright was so skinny, dude didn’t eat much. He only picked at the _tourtière_ a spiced pork meat pie and JT ate what Bright didn’t finish of his just as they were served a basket of long golden strips of something.

“What is that?” JT asked.

“ _Oreilles de crisse_ ,” Bright said. “Christ’s ears.”

JT wrinkled his nose. “What?”

“Deep fried pork belly fat.” Bright pushed the basket to him. “I’m not going to eat it.”

“Are you kidding? I love cracklins!” JT proved his point almost to his regret when omelets and crepes joined the party.

Bright ate the crepes and the maple sugar pie that followed along with _pouding chômeurs_ , some kind of bread pudding swimming in thick maple syrup and ate two of the _pet de soeur_ a sort of a cinnamon roll covered in syrup, naturally. So the key to Bright was to feed him like he was a five year old, sugar upon sugar and just enough protein to keep him alive.

“You’ve killed me, Bright.” JT held his expanded belly. “I will, however, die happy.”

“Oh but we’re not done.”

“I’m pretty sure I am.” JT chuckled woefully.

“Ha. Come on, I have some walking tours planned.”

“You are nuts. I can’t move after all that food!”

Bright never did know how to take no for an answer. They took a fashion tour with a personal stylist. JT wondered if Bright was being just a tad passive-aggressive with it but decided no, he never seemed to care what JT wore and fashion obviously meant something to him. JT could make that leap but he wasn’t comfortable with letting Bright buy everything. He’d already shelled out for the jet and the hotel, not to mention the sugar shack. JT even sprung for a beautifully done wool scarf and wrapped it around Bright’s neck. It worked perfectly with his dress coat.

Because cold didn’t matter to Bright, he dragged JT to a crime walk after dark. He drank in the dark history with glee. Never let it be said a mystery didn’t interest Malcolm Bright. JT had to admit, it was fun. He had a blast but by the time they warmed up with a light dinner in a pub, he still had no idea where he was staying the night and he was getting tired.

“How many more surprises do you have up your tailored sleeves, Bright?” he asked as they left the pub.

“A few more. Do you like winter yet?” He cocked his head to the side.

“What do you think?” JT replied cynically.

“I’m not yet done!

With that pronouncement and some time later, JT found himself in a hot tub, reunited with his luggage. Bright had told him to specifically bring three things: enough clothes for the weekend, a swim suit and something that could be layered in threes. He’d suggested thermals, pajamas and a loose fitting sweat suit. God knew what he was up to but JT had complied.

He rested back in the hot tub, looking up at the stars. “Okay, this I like. I still don’t know where I’m sleeping but this is nice.” He draped an arm around Bright, pulling him close in the bubbling water.

Bright leaned against him. “You’re about to find out.”

Bright let JT lounge a little longer before beckoning him out of the tub. They dried off well and Bright grinned saying, “Now you need your three layers.”

“What the hell are you up to?”

“You’ll see.”

JT obeyed. Bright hadn’t steered him wrong yet. He followed Bright back into the building where they had gotten the hot tub time. Bright came away with a little map and led him back to the ice buildings they had seen earlier in the day. JT’s stomach dropped as he realized what he should have when they started their tour from here. 

He and Bright had explored the Hôtel de Glace before getting on the tour bus. JT had never heard of building a hotel out of ice. They had visited the Grand Hall in the brilliant day light, taking pictures. It even had an ice chapel. JT had been amazed that there were entire buildings built and carved from ice. It wasn’t just simple blocks either. No, there had been vaulted ceilings, figures sculpted from ice. It was like a glass palace and they had taken a ridiculous amount of pictures here.

Bright led him now into the ice bar which had balustrades of crystalline ice. “They serve cocktails in ice glasses.”

“You have to be kidding me.” JT noticed Bright didn’t say ‘hey JT we’re sleeping in ice.’ He was no doubt working up to that insanity and using cocktails to lubricate the idea.

“Not at all.”

JT let him take his time with the announcement. They enjoyed a couple of ice cocktails – with pictures naturally – and Bright insisted that they go back to the lobby area for the rest room. Finally he took JT to what looked like a giant igloo with wooden doors and he opened one with a flourish.

“Bright, you have lost your mind, right? We’re going to sleep in an ice room?”

Bright’s huge smile never faltered. “We are. You’ll see how beautiful winter can be.”

He wasn’t wrong. The room took JT’s breath away. The bed was a four poster all carved of crystal clear ice and a huge sleeping bag rested on the ice ‘mattress’ which was lit from within. It was gorgeous. The rest of the room had a Greek mythology theme and Pegasus with rider had been carved into the wall. JT had no idea what to say.

Bright sat at the coffee table, also ice with lit candles on it. The seats were ice with fluffy blankets on them. “So, have I proven how beautiful winter is?”

JT hauled him up off the ice stool and kissed him hard. “Oh, babe, this is stunning but you are going to freeze to death in here.”

“Oh we’ll be fine.” Bright slipped his arms around JT’s neck, kissing him again.

JT figured that was plenty warming. More photos, so many photos were taken before they blew out the candles and settled into the sleeping bag. Okay, so it was damn warm in there. He cuddled Bright close. “Cannot believe you brought me to Hoth to go to sleep.”

“So long as I don’t do to you what Han did to his Taun-Taun, you’re fine.” He buried his face in JT’s neck. “More than fine. You are the best to cuddle with.”

JT held him tight. “Never forget it.”

X X X

Malcolm Bright was going to be how he died, JT just knew it. They were flying down a snowy hill because Malcolm decided snow rafting was how they had to spend their next day in Quebec City. Bright whooped as they glided and spun their way down the path. They hit a big dip and went tumbling right out of their raft, which made it down to the bottom faster than they did.

JT rode the rest of the way down on top of Bright until they skidded into a drift. Yep, Bright was stuck in childhood. JT was pretty sure he’d not survive another trip down the hill but Bright just lifted his face, beet red and wet, out of the snow and asked. “Want to do it again?”

“Bright….” He groaned.

Malcolm wiggled under him. “Get off me, JT.”

“You keep doing that and get off me is going to become get off _on_ me.”

“Later,” Bright promised squirming free. “We need to do this another ten times at least.”

JT pressed his own face into the snow before flopping over onto his back. “You are officially insane.”

“You’re not the first to say it.” He looked down into JT’s face before kissing him with lip balmed lips that tasted of oranges and JT had seen the hemp oil symbol on the container. His lips were soft and sweet. “And tonight we actually are staying at the Château Frontenac. They only let you one night in the ice rooms. So some more snow rafting, then we’ll figure out something for the afternoon, maybe go maple sugaring, and then a walk in a lit up winter park at night. Aterwards you can do obscene things to me but only if you tell me honestly-”

“Winter’s great in small doses,” JT broke in, tugging an ice ball off Malcolm’s hair. 

“Great, be thinking about those things you want to do.” Bright grinned, bounced off and trotted after their lost raft.

Yes, Malcolm Bright was going to be how he died but JT didn’t mind it one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> All the places here are places you could see in Quebec City and that includes the ice hotel. Here's the actual picture I used for inspiration for their room which is from the hotel
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/uUWKyI1)   
> 


End file.
